20 Years Later
by NonMetallicMetal
Summary: A day in the life of Jet 20 years after the end of the series.


**Disclaimer:** Well, it's called fan fiction for a reason.

As the title suggest, this is a scenario of what I believe could happen to the Bebop Crew 20 years after the end of the series.

Please enjoy and review.

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Everything was empty now. I'd finally cleared up every crevice of the Bebop and managed to get the unused items shipped away. I'd cleaned the ship from top to bottom. And by now, I was sure that not even a strand of hair could be found, certain that the traces of our existence between the cold metal walls of the ship had disappeared. Too much time had already passed. I'd held on for too long.

I taped up the last brown box and allowed one of the delivery men to take it away from my hands. As I stood up, my back hurt and I glanced out of the window to make sure that it still wasn't too cold outside. The sun was up, but it didn't do much to brighten the day. It was merely a white, cold circle miraculously hanging onto the treads of white clouds. I tore my gaze away from the window and walked outside to watch the truck disappear with all my memories. My back hurt again, but I didn't leave until I saw the dust settle on the road. I headed inside to take one last look. Just one.

The ship was quiet and cold. To a point, hostile. How had I managed to keep myself here? I walked through the Bebop again. I walked to my room. To Spike's. To Faye and Ed's. To the kitchen. To the living room. I stared at the empty spots as I walked through the rooms. No beds. No couch. No table. Nothing. I sighed heavily as I roamed through the metal halls of the ship. But when I'd had enough of seeing my solitude being emphasized, I slipped a coat over my shoulders and placed a hat over my head. I walked to the exit and picked up the cane leaning on the frame of the door. I strolled out from the hostility and waited away from the bitter wind while standing under the shadow of the Bebop.

I saw a silver car carefully approaching. It shone eerily with the light of the cold sun. My eyes stung. I lifted my gaze and saw the Bebop's shell. The paint was starting to peel in a small area. I frowned. I'd taken care of the ship for so long that it bothered me to be unable to do anything about its decay anymore. I glanced at the car again and swallowed the nervousness away from my throat. Even after those 20 years of peace, if it could be called that, doing this was still very hard. I tried not to turn back and walked towards the car in slow, haphazard strides. The wind cut through my bare skin and beat the ends of my coat. I waited for the car to stop before getting any closer. The tinted window of the car rolled down. I saw the young man's blonde, slicked back hair first. But I waited to speak until I could see the color of his tie. Today it was green.

"How are you Mr. Black?" he said but didn't allow me to answer, "Are you ready to give up the key?" His voice was persuasive and calm. It was cold. And it was shallow.

I looked back to see the Bebop but forced my eyes away. "As ready as I'll ever be," I answered.

"Don't worry. Your ship will be in the hands of a good family," he said.

I knew he really didn't care, but I said, "That would be nice…it's meant for that."

He stretched his hand out through the window to receive the keys. I had at least expected for him to step out of the car, but he didn't seem interested in leaving the comfort of his vehicle. I slightly shook my head and slowly pulled out the heavy and worn out keychain. My hand shook. Not from hesitation, I was sure of that, but from the arrow of pain that ran through my wrist. I don't know why, but I remembered the first time I had touched the keys. And I remembered everything that happened afterwards. Every memory that was ever connected to the old piece of corroding metal began to fill my mind. The weight of the keys suddenly felt like too much and I let them fall into the young hands of the man. Our hands were so different. One of mine was large and old, the other a dull metal. His hands were frail; and yet had a strange strength to them.

"Thank you, Mr. Black," he said. "I'll contact you if we need anything."

I watched the car drive away. This time, I didn't even wait for the sound of the engine to fade or for the smoke from the exhaust to disappear. I turned in the opposite direction, making sure not to glance back at the ship, and walked away leaning heavily on my cane. After taking the subway and a bus ride, I arrived at the outskirts of the city. But it wasn't until after a short walk that I came to a small bar. It was worn but well kept. The sign on the door was turned to open. I clutched the door handle and firmly pulled the door open. I stepped in, closed the door behind me, and sat down on a stool by the bar stand. A young, blonde girl came to assist me but she was interrupted.

"I'll take care of this," I heard. I looked up and saw Faye a few feet away. She smiled at me and filled a glass with water before coming any closer.

I smiled back, but the gesture was lost in the wrinkles of my face. I looked at her as I took the glass away from her hands. Seeing Faye, or Ed for that matter, always reminded me of the time that had passed. It was obvious that she had changed, but I could still see the part of her from before. Though she was the type of woman who aged gracefully, the skin on her face wasn't taut anymore. She had become a little careless of her hair; she'd stopped cutting it years ago and allowed the traces of white to remain untouched. It was braided loosely and it easily reached the lower part of her back. At its end, she wore a ribbon that matched her shirt, a striped, button-up with the arms rolled past her elbows. She still wore make up. Still the same shade of red on her lips.

The dew of the glass rolled unto my fingers. I lifted the glass up to my lips and took a drink before speaking. "How have you been?" I said.

"I've been doing better…," she replied softly.

I didn't answer. Instead I took my hat and coat off while waiting for her to reply correctly.

"Do you really need to hear me say that anytime you visit?" She sighed before aloofly saying, "I've kept my bullets and blades away from myself."

"That's good to hear," I finally responded. I knew that she was over that stage. But I still needed to hear it from her. I didn't want to make the mistake of not knowing until I saw the dirt being shoveled over her coffin. Actually, I'd made a decision a few months ago, right after a heart attack. I'd made up my mind. I wanted to die before I saw anyone else from the Bebop fall. I knew that by that logic, I could simply press the barrel of a gun against my temple and pull the trigger. But I didn't want that either.

"You shouldn't worry about that anymore," Faye said reassuringly and then her voice became a little joyful as she said, "How about you. How have you been?"

"I'm better as well," I said. Then I halfway chuckled realizing something: I wasn't okay. "I still miss Shirley. But. I'm sure that soon I'll become senile enough to forget."

"It'll be sooner than you think," Faye said.

I looked up at her. Sooner? Exactly how quickly had she truly gotten over Spike's death? I really wanted to ask. By now, it must have been the billionth time I wanted to talk to someone about him. To her. But I knew better and tried to make something else out of her statement. I said, "I'm that old, am I?" making sure that I sounded a little insulted.

She smiled for a fraction of a second then said, "Not exactly what I meant, but I guess it works. Let's see, 58 pretty soon right?"

"Yeah," I said, "I feel much older than that though…Those last few years with Shirley really took a toll on me."

Faye smirked.

"What?" I asked.

"It's just. I still can't believe you actually married someone."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I said actually offended this time.

"Well. Nothing really. I just didn't think you would. And now that she's gone, it's a bit harder to believe...But if it makes you feel any better, I still miss her from time to time. She visited me more often than you did. And it was nice to talk to her, even when the diabetes really struck her."

After Spike left, Faye disappeared. Then it was only me. In an instant, the vigor of the ship became stale. I was alone and something felt wrong. It felt like at any moment, Spike would return dripping in blood and needing to be bandaged up. Like Faye had only left for a while and would return carrying bags full of clothing. Like Ed would pop out and scare me in any instant. Like Ein would beg for food very soon. But none of those things happened. I did things that I didn't need to do anymore. I cooked more than I had to. I bought more of everything than I needed. I worked more than was necessary. If it had been in the past, before the time I had even met Spike, I think I would have enjoyed the peace of being alone. But they had changed that. After living with Spike, Faye, Ed, and Ein for so long, that part of me had changed. I couldn't be alone anymore. So I married Shirley. A woman who I'd met buying supplies for the ship. A woman who, more than anything, was great company. A woman that I couldn't even be sure I loved.

It was almost impossible not to drown myself in memories of her but I took another drink of the cold water and tried to wash them away. My insides felt numb. I swallowed again and cleared my throat before saying in a cheerier tone, "But what about you? You found anyone yet?"

She laughed, truly spontaneously. "Me! No, no…" she said, "I'm fine as is…I'll be sticking to my rule of never falling for any one."

I snickered at her reaction but didn't say anything.

"Three mistakes are all I need, Jet," she said, "The first was before the cryogenics. With the second I ended up falling in debt. And with the third…well. You know the third…" then she added as an afterthought, "Does it even count? I think more than anything it was just me being crazy enough to believe something like that."

I shrugged my shoulders at her.

"Either way, I'll count it and save me the trouble of messing up again," she concluded.

I expected her eyes to become a little duller. But they didn't, or at least that I could tell. And that wasn't very much to trust considering my sight had begun to fail. At times like this, I really wanted to know: Faye, what was it with you and Spike? What was truly going on between you two? What happened to you after he left? Why did you try so hard to die?

I only knew so much. I think I understood the jest of their relationship; but I'm also sure that they didn't even understand it completely. I knew why she had left. Why she'd tried to stop suffering and how she realized that she was only imitating Spike's actions. Even though it wasn't necessary anymore, I wanted to tell her that in reality, Spike had liked her more than she imagined. That it was okay for her to be angry and disappointed. But I knew that wouldn't make things any better so I stopped thinking about it.

"Have you heard from Ed?" I asked, "After she got arrested, I've had trouble keeping up with her."

"I have," Faye answered. "Even while in a prison, she managed to change the files and get released quickly. But then, she hacked into the database of a credit card company, mine by the way, and erased the records. Thanks to her I'm clear of debt and I've been able to get along better."

"Is that why there are more people working?"

"Partly. I also realized that I get more customers this way. All I have to do is make sure to hire young, pretty girls. It's great, but I can't help and compare myself to them sometimes and I feel too old…We're getting old," she sighed before saying, "Anyway, Ed's hiding away somewhere on Earth, but she sent me a message a few days back. She's planning on coming here to visit."

"It'd be nice to see her again," I said. I only saw Ed once every few months. It'd been almost five months since the last time I'd seen her.

As far as her life went, Ed had submerged herself in her 'work.' She hacked into anything that could possibly give her a chance to become famous…No, infamous would be the better term. She'd been hacking into too many government and large corporation's systems and because she kept being chased, she kept having to move from place to place. I guess that's why she didn't have many personal friends. As far as I knew, she had only had three 'boyfriends,' but they were all during her late teen years. I often wondered if she had the type of relationship that was full of hand-holding or if it was something else. Either way, Ed gave up on love very quickly. What surprised me was that she didn't seem disillusioned at all. Almost as if failure and pain was the only thing to anticipate from romance. Did Ed expect to feel that way all along? Whatever the case, as soon as she'd turned twenty-one, she became completely engrossed in becoming the number one hacker. And since she continued to upgrade Ein, he was the only company she had. The dog was old now and it was more robot than anything. But I wouldn't be amazed if it outlived me.

I glanced at the clock to check the time. I lived on the other side of town and I only had a few more minutes left before I needed to head out. I began hesitantly, "I…I finally handed the keys of the Bebop over to someone else."

"You did?" Faye asked surprised.

I nodded then said, "It was about time wasn't it?"

"Even a bit overdue."

After I married Shirley, we didn't live in the ship. We would use it to travel from time to time, to visit Faye and Ed, but that was it. Somehow, I couldn't conform to the idea of 'starting new' being surrounded by my memories, so we bought an apartment. In that, I was a hypocrite. I was trying to let go, without actually releasing anything. Though Shirley liked the ship, she confessed to me that she wouldn't be able to live in it because it somehow felt that it was rejecting her; she didn't feel like she belonged there. I wonder how much of that was actually true.

Faye grabbed two clean glasses from the counter and took the top off of a whiskey bottle from a shelf behind her. She put ice on the cups and poured the liquor into the glasses. One was halfway full and the other had only a finger's width. She handed me the glass with the least amount of liquor.

"One drink shouldn't hurt you," she said aloofly.

I stared down at the glass. I'd gotten rid of 'unhealthy' habits based on doctor's orders. When Shirley fell ill, I was the one that tended to her. I saw her body swell, and bruise, and decompose slowly. She couldn't see and she couldn't move and she couldn't feel. Of the twelve years I spent with her, four of them were spent trying to keep her alive. One night, when we finally though we'd pulled through, she became sick. The next morning she was dead. And as for me, instead of feeling 58, I felt and looked 75.

Only one drink. I picked up the glass. Faye brought her glass close to mine and the rim of the glasses met with a 'cling.' I drank the whiskey and sat my glass down. Faye finished hers just as quickly. The sharp taste of the liquor was stuck to my tongue and the back of my throat.

"Well, I better be heading out," I said.

"Alright," Faye said. I took out my wallet and sat some money down on the counter. When she saw me doing this she said, "Just for today, you don't need to pay."

"Nah," I said. Truthfully, I was afraid that if I didn't pay her now, she'd find a way to get it either way. She was still like that. She was still in love with wealth. "I'll see you later then."

"Well, take care," she said. I nodded. She picked up my glass and headed towards the kitchen in the back. I put my coat and hat on again and left the bar.

I didn't immediately go to my new home. I made a trip to the Oakview Cemetery. I walked across the rows of marble headstones and tall, dried-up grass until I found Shirley's. I kneeled close to the tomb, dusted the surface, and removed the weeds surrounding the base. I stood up. The grave was barren and dull. I looked around at the other headstones. A very small minority still had flowers…I'd stopped bringing Shirley flowers for over a year now; I guess this is what Faye meant when she'd say I'd forget soon enough. Now, whenever I visited Shirley, the only thing I did was talk as if expecting she'd answer.

"Hello, Shirley," I began, "…Guess what? Today I sold the ship. I know I'd promised I'd take you to visit all the planets in it, but I didn't see a reason to keep it seeing as you're not here anymore…I'm taking better care of myself. I think you'd be happier seeing that I eat all the stuff you always wanted me to. Anyway, I'll come visit you again. And next time…I promise. I'll bring you some flowers."

I stood up. At times like this, when I was surrounded by headstones, I always thought of Spike as well. Truthfully, I was the only person at his funeral, if it could be called that. His headstone had nothing written on it but his name. I hadn't visited it in sixteen years. This is when I wonder whether he would be mad at me for not visiting his grave. My only consolation was knowing that he probably wouldn't mind. I wouldn't expect it from someone who avidly refused life.

I missed Spike. But he had decided his fate and I couldn't stop him from doing that. I hate to think about it this way, but I think that for a while I felt like he was my son. Or maybe, it's just been that lately I've realized that I grow so attached to people without knowing it. In any case, he's only a memory now. But. How much could a memory be? If anything, I knew one thing for sure, there was one undeniable thing that Spike had left behind: a fading trace of his life that had affected all of us in the Bebop in a way he probably would have never imagined or even wanted. And it was very simple. We could live because he hadn't. Seeing Spike die slowly, it made me realize that I couldn't cling on to my past. After he died, Faye stopped trying to remember her past at all; if anything came to her, she sometimes even went as far as ignoring it. It took her a while, but eventually she tried to establish a 'new' life. And Ed. When she heard about Spike's death, she cried. A lot. I think seeing her that way is one of the most painful things I've had to experience. But after all that, she picked up the pace trying to achieve her goals and not become a fading persona of the past…Still, what if he were still here?

The sun was sitting. I adjusted the hat over my head, buttoned up my coat, and walked towards the exit of the cemetery. It was getting late and I needed to reach the opposite side of town where my small apartment was located. As I walked out, I stared at the other graves and read the names of a countless many people I had never met. But through all those names, the only things I could think of were Shirley and Spike and how I didn't want to see Faye or Ed's names written on a stone. I could think about my past forever. But I shouldn't. The past is the past. The present is the present. And tomorrow. Tomorrow I hoped to have another day. That was what Spike's death made me realize.

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Comments? Reviews? All highly appreciated.

It took me such a long time just to write a one-shot. I've been working on this since before school started. This semester, I definitely won't be able to update anything extensive.

For those of you who care: If you've read Crazy and are looking forward to another installation of Spike/Faye from yours truly, I believe I've come up with a decent plot for yet another story. Like Crazy, the story will be rated M for your basic blood, violence, sexuality. Unlike Crazy which switched between Faye and Spike's POV, this will be all from Spike's perspective. Since in Crazy, it seemed that Faye took the bulk of the suffering, this one might have Spike suffering at least a little more. Still all the angst and romance you can think of. No title as of now, but make sure to keep an eye out for it…I've got the summary down:

"When your life is over but you're still alive, the only thing left to do is watch others living their lives. There's only one problem. Sooner or later you're bound to get involved." Meh. Something like that.

If you haven't read Crazy, I've gotten a lot of good reviews for it so I highly encourage you to check it out. If you're not into S/F…it probably won't hurt you to read it, but you probably won't enjoy it as much.

That's all for now.

Take care!

-NonMetallicMetal


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